Placement
by Imadra Blue
Summary: Three years after the Fourth Shinobi World War, Iruka visits a Place in Konohagakure where men go to meet other men. He finds a surprise new visitor: Kakashi, the man who had returned from the war carrying Naruto's body. Their subsequent encounter is fleeting, haptic, yet oddly intense. The promise of more lingers in every touch, but remains unspoken. KakaIru slash/yaoi.


**Pairing: **Kakashi/Iruka**  
Warnings:** Mild restraint, character death (prior to beginning of story, none in story)  
**Notes:** Written for Gaymuraki in KakaIru Fest Winter Round 2012. Beta read by the lovely Sanee_ftw. Happy Holidays, Gaymuraki! I really wanted to write more to this, to further explore how Kakashi and Iruka develop their relationship, but my teaching gig and my Master's thesis forced me to leave this at the beginnings of their relationship. Because of the nature of the ending, I do feel the need to state I fully intended it to end where it did. I leave it to the reader to judge its merits.

…

There was a Place in Konohagakure, a Place that certain types of men knew about, even if they never spoke of it aloud. It was a Place where men could meet freely, say very little, or say too much. A Place where no one said a word if two men sat too closely together, or touched each other, or even danced together. A Place where men arrived separately, but left together. Its location and the password to enter its garbage-stained alleyway door would be scribbled on a piece of paper, in a code that required time and effort to crack. One had to care to know. The Place moved after Pain destroyed the village, but it had been rebuilt. No one really knew who rebuilt it, but no one really cared. What mattered is that it was there, and everyone who cared was able to find it again. The door was no longer stained with garbage, and the password had changed, but it was the same Place.

Iruka could not recall when he started going to the Place—likely not too long after becoming an Academy instructor. Just going inside the Place always provided an education. Even though the Place featured many high-backed booths, dim lighting, and too much smoke from all the cigarettes, it was all too easy to recognize people there. Many men in the village never went to the Place, never even knew about it, but there were still a number who did. Some went out of curiosity, only visiting once. Others went every night. Iruka came to know them all. He was one of the ones who went every night.

That particular evening, the Place seemed filled with the usual clientele. Iruka passed by Shikamaru's booth. He had felt awkward to see his former student appear there a few years ago, but he had grown used to it by now. They didn't speak to each other, nor did they ever sit near each other. That would be too strange in a Place like this. Shikamaru took a sip of his tea and glanced at the bar as Iruka passed by him. Iruka followed the youth's gaze and paused.

Someone new sat at the bar that night. A chilled glass of plum wine sat in front of the newcomer. Iruka paused, blinking until he finally recognized the man. He had never expected to find Hatake Kakashi at the Place. Or nursing something as sweet as plum wine. Iruka glanced back at Shikamaru, but Shikamaru's gaze had already been cast back down at his tea. No one approached Kakashi. Perhaps because he was too well-known, too recognizable, perhaps even too intimidating.

Iruka knew he possessed many flaws, but cowardice did not number amongst them. He sat down next to Kakashi and ordered sake.

Kakashi glanced over at him, the white of his visible eye flashing in the dim light. His mask covered most of his face. His plum wine stood mostly empty. He said nothing. Then again, he had spoken little since Naruto died. _Since Sasuke killed him_, Iruka thought, though he tried to push that from his mind. No one took Naruto's death harder than Kakashi, not even Hinata. It was as if Kakashi had reached his limit of how many deaths he could accept in a lifetime. He spoke very little, he withdrew from the world, and so far as anyone knew, he spent almost all his time in his apartment with nothing but regret for company. This was the first time Iruka had seen him in the three years since the war had ended. He seemed so much older.

"Hello," Iruka said, suddenly feeling very stupid as he looked into Kakashi's dark eyes. The pain remained there, raw and visible, as if not a day had passed since Naruto's death. Iruka knew he had felt like that when he first saw Naruto's cold, still corpse, but time had eased Iruka's own suffering. It had apparently left Kakashi untouched.

Kakashi turned back to his plum wine.

Iruka sighed. "Are you sure you're in the right Place? You, uh, know what this Place is for, right?" he finally asked.

"I know." Kakashi picked up his glass and examined it. "I haven't been here in years, but I know."

"Oh."

"You think I just randomly wandered in here with a password, not knowing?" Kakashi asked. His wine glass stood near empty now. "Or that I didn't get tipped off by the time I ordered a drink and realized two men were slow-dancing not even twenty feet from my seat?"

Iruka kept his embarrassment off his face. "Okay, I get it. It's just that, well—well, you don't seem the type."

"No. I suppose I don't."

"May I ask who gave you the password? Just out of curiosity."

Kakashi glanced back behind him. A tall man slid into Shikamaru's booth and seemed deep in conversation with him. After leaning back far enough to catch a glimpse of his face, Iruka recognized Yamato. He, too, had aged after the war, but his captivity had not erased the brightness to the smile he directed at Shikamaru. Iruka blinked and sat up straight.

"He's a bit old for Shikamaru-kun, isn't he?"

"Shikamaru-kun is a grown man of nineteen."

"I suppose you are right."

Kakashi fell silent. His wine glass stood empty now. He pushed it away. Iruka watched his hands as he slid the glass across the bar. Those hands had carried Naruto's body home three years ago. Dirt had been stuck under the nails then. Today, they were clean. Iruka's chest felt tight, and he looked away. He swallowed back the tears that often threatened to reveal his loss whenever he thought of Naruto.

Taking in a deep breathe, Iruka stood. "I should go. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"You didn't bother me." Kakashi glanced up, his dark gaze focused on Iruka. "This is what we're both here for, isn't it?"

Iruka opened his mouth, then closed it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering why he had even sat beside Kakashi. Curiosity, ostensibly, but he could not deny the man was beautiful. No mask could hide that.

Kakashi stood up as well. "I was rude earlier. My apologies." He glanced to the side. "I understand if you're not interested, Iruka-sensei. If maybe you'd rather find someone else to invite home."

"It's not that," Iruka said quickly, feeling his face heat up as if he were a teenager again. Everything about Kakashi made him feel slightly ridiculous and awkward. "I just—"

"Why don't I make this easier? Would you like to come back to my place tonight?"

Iruka stared. While he came to the Place almost every night, he rarely went home with anyone. He came for the company, for the ability to sit in a Place filled with people like him. Going home with other men usually led to awkward situations and trampled feelings once they showed little interest in seeing Iruka again.

"I guess that's a no." Kakashi sighed. "I should leave. It was probably stupid of me to come here. No one wants damaged goods." He shoved his hands in his pockets and loped towards the exit, his silver hair gleaming every time he passed a lamp.

Iruka licked his lips and followed. Everything about Kakashi's statement made his chest hurt. It drove Iruka forward, out of the Place, and after Kakashi. He called out his name as he walked down the benighted street.

Kakashi stopped and glanced back at Iruka, hands still in his pockets. "Yes?"

"I—" Iruka cut himself off and tried to think of how to say what he wanted. "I wouldn't mind going back to your place tonight. If you wouldn't mind me."

Kakashi seemed to smile behind his mask, just a little. "I don't mind you, Iruka-sensei. If anything, you seem like the best choice I could have made."

Iruka smiled despite himself, his face heating at the compliment.

"My apartment is this way." Kakashi turned left and led Iruka through a twist of alleyways. Despite Yamato's valiant efforts to rebuild Konohagakure in neat, orderly patterns, it had soon returned to the comforting labyrinth of alleyways that its people knew best. Kakashi led Iruka to a large four story building, made of the same neat wood as the others, but with a sloppy white and red paint job. The apartment was in the corner of the fourth floor, with an obstructed view of Mount Hokage. And the Naruto Monument.

Some things were best left unseen.

Iruka said nothing as he followed Kakashi inside. Kakashi shut the door behind him, but did not turn on the lights. After a moment, Iruka's eyes adjusted to the moonlight glow pouring in through the windows, casting the world in shades of blue and gray. It took another moment to realize Kakashi was waiting for him, his shoes already off.

"I should probably tell you something before you take off your shoes," Kakashi said, staring at the wall rather than Iruka. "It might change your mind."

Iruka knit his brows together. "What do you mean?"

"About why I asked you here. What I asked you here for. I'm not like most of the men at the Place." Kakashi finally looked at him, his dark eye seeming to suck in what little light there was. "I don't want you to touch me. I don't like being touched. I never really did, but it got worse since… well, you know since when."

Since Naruto died. Iruka frowned. He could understand how the loss of Naruto—_and Sasuke's ultimate crime_, he thought—might make it difficult for Kakashi to be with people, but he didn't really understand why Kakashi brought him here if not to be touched. One did not go to the Place looking for a shogi partner. "What did you want, then?" he asked, unable to keep wariness from his voice.

"I want to touch you." Kakashi looked away, as if ashamed. "As much as I like. But I don't want you touching me back."

Iruka did not know what to say to that, so he said nothing. His fingers twitched, and he reflected on how Kakashi's apartment felt cold. The chill crawling over his bare hands was at least easy to understand.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long time, for me. It's why I went to the Place. I was so tired of… just sitting around here alone." Kakashi bowed his head. "I understand if you wish to leave."

Iruka glanced back at the door, then back at the bowed figure of Hatake Kakashi. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're asking me. There are certain things I'm willing to do, and certain things I'm not willing to do. I don't go home with people a lot. I just like the company at the Place. This isn't my area of expertise."

Kakashi looked up. "I don't want to do anything you don't want to do, Iruka-sensei." He sounded gentle now. "I just want to touch you. All I'll do is tie your hands so I know you can't touch me. I'll make sure not to do it too tightly."

Shuffling his feet a bit, Iruka answered by removing his shoes and stepping into Kakashi's living room. The wood floor felt cold beneath his feet, and Iruka had to wonder if Kakashi ever turned on the heat. He stood close to Kakashi, close enough to be grateful for the warmth of Kakashi's body. He studied Kakashi's left eye, practically the only visible part of his face. The blackness seemed more like a pool of sad things, dead things, lonely things. A well of missed chances and farewells offered too late. Iruka raised a hand.

As quick as a _Chidori_, Kakashi grabbed Iruka's hand, stilling its movement mid-air. His expression did not change, and his tone remained gentle enough to quell Iruka's alarm. "I'm sorry I can't offer you something more normal. I'll make sure you enjoy yourself, if nothing else."

Iruka slipped his hand free and dropped it to his side. "All right, Kakashi-san. If this is what you want. I don't mind giving it to you. But if I ask you to release me—"

"All you have to do is say it. And I'll let you go. I won't keep you where you don't want to be kept," Kakashi promised.

With a nod, Iruka took a step back and studied Kakashi. He did not know what to do with a man who didn't want to be touched. Kakashi turned away and pulled something out of a bin shoved in the corner of his cluttered apartment. Iruka's gaze wandered over the chairs, covered in clothes and weapons, the broken TV set, a guitar brooding in the corner, the unlit fireplace. Food wrappers huddled together underneath tables as if for warmth, and a fine layer of dust covered the tops and backs of furniture.

By the time Iruka turned to look at him Kakashi neatly wrapped a strap of leather around Iruka's right wrist. Kakashi paused there, letting the sound of their breathing fill the space between them. Iruka realized Kakashi wanted permission, and he nodded his head.

Dipping his head forward, Kakashi led Iruka to the back of the apartment, to the bedroom. It was small and cramped, as cluttered and disastrous-looking as the living room. Near the bed stood two framed photographs. Iruka recognized the Fourth Hokage in one, with a small, masked Kakashi before him. The other two must have been his teammates—one of them a murderer, the other murdered. The other photograph held a picture of Kakashi, one not so haunted and worn, with Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke before him. Kakashi laid both photographs forward and turned to Iruka, tugging at the leather strap.

Iruka moved closer. "I thought you didn't want me to touch you."

"No, but I want to touch you." Kakashi started pulling at Iruka's clothing. "And you're wearing a lot of clothes."

Iruka moved to help with the buttons, but Kakashi slid his hands away. Iruka looked away as a sudden wave of adolescent awkwardness washed over him. It was one thing to undress in a heated moment, in a kiss, but to have his clothes peeled off by another man staring at him so intently was something else. Iruka did not feel beautiful enough to be stripped like this. All his flaws seemed bared as Kakashi's fingers divested him of his shirt, and he suddenly wished he had left before Kakashi could realize how plain and ordinary he truly was.

Kakashi fingers trailed over Iruka's bared chest, leaving Iruka tingling with every centimeter explored. After brushing against a nipple, Iruka started, his cock twitching with interest. Kakashi looked up and let go of the leather strap to trace the scar over Iruka's face. "You're lovely."

Shivering from contact, Iruka parted his lips, but before he could protest that he was not lovely at all, Kakashi's fingers circled his mouth. Iruka closed his eyes, surprised at the gentleness of Kakashi's touch. Here was a man renowned for his ability to kill, a man who had battled gods and survived, a man who could have been Hokage if he wished, a man who now slid his fingers over Iruka's lips, moistening them with Iruka's own saliva, his touch as soft as a kiss. Iruka warmed, his awkwardness melting away.

Kakashi dropped Iruka's shirt and jacket on the floor, beside a pile of his dirty books, and led Iruka to the bed. "I'm going to tie both your hands to the bedpost," he whispered, as if at a shrine. "Is that all right?"

Iruka studied Kakashi's one visible eye. There many things to be read in that eye, but none of them were malice. Iruka offered his left wrist, and Kakashi neatly tied it with the leather strap. One swift fluid motion brought Iruka's arms up, and Kakashi completed the knot by tying Iruka's hands to the bedpost, as promised. Iruka glanced up at it, frowning. Something of the stretch of his arms over his head, his naked chest vulnerable to attack, gave him a flutter of panic. This was how shinobi died.

"Hey." Kakashi peered into Iruka's face and traced Iruka's scar again. "If you want me to stop, just say so."

A simple statement. A simple touch. But it served to quell Iruka's worries and he relaxed against the bed, finally noticing how Kakashi's sheets felt cool beneath his bared skin. He nodded. "It's all right."

As Kakashi's fingers trailed off Iruka's face, down his neck, onto his chest, Iruka closed his eyes. The chill of the room swiftly disappeared and Iruka grew warmer with every inch of his skin that Kakashi touched. Kakashi soon stroked him with both hands, fingers gently tracing the lines of his body, the curves of his frame, the texture of his skin. When Kakashi's thumbs pressed against his nipples, Iruka bit his lip, fearing he might moan and embarrass himself.

"You've beautiful skin, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi whispered. He stroked Iruka's stomach, his hands nearing his waistline.

"No, I have too many scars," Iruka demurred, his voice straining to sound normal as Kakashi stroked his flesh. His pants began to feel uncomfortably tight. All this touching was proving too much for him. He glanced down and found, to his mortification, that his pants revealed a telltale bulge.

Kakashi touched his face again, tracing the scar over the bridge of his nose. "It's beautiful. All of it."

Iruka opened his mouth to protest again, but sound strangled inside his throat as Kakashi cupped his crotch. He squirmed in pleasure, his eyes opening of their own volition. Kakashi leaned over him, still fully clothed, his forehead protector and mask in place. His one visible eye remained the darkest point in Iruka's range. Iruka's face heated. He wondered how he had any blood left to blush considering how good Kakashi's hand felt pressed against his cock, flesh separated only by their clothing.

"I want to see more," Kakashi whispered, starting to undo Iruka's belt. "I want to see all of it."

"There's not much to see," Iruka said, looking to the side, at Kakashi's blank-faced wall. He squirmed again as Kakashi slid off his pants. If the room was still cold, Iruka did not notice. He bit his lip and strained a little at his bonds, his wrists smarting as the leather bit into his flesh. The rough weave of Kakashi's trousers brushed against his bared thighs, reinforcing how much he was Kakashi's mercy at the moment. He felt vulnerable like this, exposed—his shinobi training made it difficult to ignore all the ways he could die in such a position. Only Kakashi's gentle touch made him feel safe enough to not demand release from the straps around his wrist.

Kakashi's hands splayed over his bare hips, and Iruka had to admit the desire to keep Kakashi's hands on him also played a part in his willingness to be here, like this. "It's more than enough," Kakashi whispered, and brushed his fingertips against Iruka's erect cock.

Iruka bit his lip again to keep from crying out, bucking a bit. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him. He had forgotten how much he missed it.

"You like that, don't you?" Kakashi whispered and wrapped his fingers around Iruka's cock, squeezing.

A cry escaped Iruka's lips. He could not bite it back any longer. His body temperature rose two degrees all at once. The Kakashi's kunai-worn palm slid along his length, drowning out all other sensations. Iruka's world swiftly centered itself around his cock.

"Does it feel good?" Kakashi whispered, his thumb rubbing against Iruka's tip. His own breathing seemed to hitch.

Iruka shivered, his hips thrusting up of their own accord, as if demanding more of Kakashi's touch. "Y-yes," he gasped, wondering why Kakashi kept asking him questions. Forming words required more blood in his brain than currently available.

"Good." Kakashi's right hand sped up, stroking quicker and quicker, while the other pressed down on Iruka's hips, creating equilibrium as Iruka arched his back. "Come for me. I want to see it. Feel it."

Pleasure built deep in Iruka's body, a tension requiring release. He could barely hear Kakashi anymore. His senses reduced to one: feel. He felt everything, from Kakashi's hand on his cock, to the smooth sheets underneath him, to Kakashi clothed thighs between his, spreading his own wider. It all went straight to his groin. He felt intense pressure expand from his balls, then finally, blessedly a release. He thrust up hard enough to break Kakashi's hold, coming harder than he could ever recall.

When Iruka returned to the stable universe he knew best, he felt instantly ashamed. There was something silly about coming alone, exposed and weak before another man's eyes. He started to feel cold again, keenly aware of his cum splattered across his belly.

"Beautiful," Kakashi exhaled, and wiped Iruka's stomach clean with a soft cloth.

Iruka shivered, warming again. "Kakashi-san…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say as Kakashi sat up. Why Kakashi found him beautiful, he could not understand.

"Thank you," Kakashi said, leaning over him again. He lightly pressed a fingertip to Iruka's facial scar. "For understanding." He leaned over to untie Iruka and then stood up.

Iruka sat up, arms wrapping around himself and gazed over at Kakashi. He could see a bulge in Kakashi's own pants, cloth tented out. He resisted the urge to simply cup Kakashi's cock now that his hands were free. He did not want to upset him. "Do you want me to return the favor?"

Kakashi smiled and picked up Iruka's clothing from the floor. "It's not that simple. I'll take care of it myself. But thank you." He handed Iruka his clothing, his eyes warm, even if his intent for Iruka to leave was clear. "I'm sorry that I can't be more hospitable."

Nodding, Iruka stood and took his clothes. He swallowed back the same feeling of rejection he always had whenever this happened, and dressed quickly. Nothing ever lasted with him. No one he met at the Place ever wanted him to stay for long. Maybe he was looking in the wrong Place. Iruka padded to the door, keeping his feelings off his face, out of his posture.

"Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said.

Pausing at the door, Iruka glanced back. Kakashi sat on the bed now, over the rumpled spot Iruka had just laid upon. He studied Iruka intently, his hands bunching the sheets beneath him. "If you want to come back tomorrow night—" He hesitated. "—I'd be happy to have you over."

Iruka blinked, then smiled. The statement warmed him as much as Kakashi's hands had. "Then I'll see you tomorrow night." He slipped out of the room, out of the apartment, into the cool night. He glanced back at Kakashi's door.

Maybe this wasn't the right place, either, but it seemed like the right time.

…

Iruka did not visit Kakashi every night, but he did visit him more frequently than he felt comfortable admitting. Kakashi's touch remained intoxicating, but an invisible wall remained between them, for he still had not let Iruka touch him even once. Walls seemed to be Iruka's archnemesis—every lover he ever had placed walls between them. Perhaps this was to be expected when involving oneself with shinobi.

It took Iruka four months, one week, and two days to finally say something. He perched at the edge of a chair covered in dirty laundry, putting on his shirt in the moonlit gloom of Kakashi's bedroom. Kakashi sat on the bed, still fully clothed, wiping his hand clean of Iruka's cum. Something about how easily Kakashi removed all traces of others from his flesh but not his soul caused Iruka to rise and stand in front of Kakashi.

Kakashi glanced up, his visible eye's gaze heavy with unspent lust. "Did you forget something?"

Iruka reached out a hand, hovering over Kakashi's face. Kakashi drew back, eyes widening slightly. "Why?" Iruka asked. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

Kakashi exhaled, his warm breath puffing against Iruka's fingers. "It's not you, Iruka-sensei. It's anyone."

"Why?"

Kakashi lowered his gaze to fix on Iruka's bared feet. "There are no words to describe how empty I feel. After all that happened in the war. I just can't bear people to touch me. I feel like I'll crumble to dust if they do."

Iruka dropped his hand to his side. "Fair enough." He turned to leave, wondering if this was Kakashi's way of punishing himself.

"Why do you want to touch me so much?"

Iruka paused at the bedroom entrance, his hands braced against the wall. "Because a relationship that goes one way doesn't go anywhere at all."

As he continued to walk out, Iruka glanced back once. Kakashi had clasped his hands.

…

The sun had not yet set when Iruka returned to Kakashi's apartment three days later. He brought a bag of take-out, and when Kakashi let him in, he set the bag on a table cluttered with empty ramen packages without opening it. Kakashi seemed to smile behind his mask, the material stretching, his visible eye crinkling. They sat at the table, cartons of curry and trash stretched between them, and ate.

Today, Kakashi did not eat between the spaces of Iruka's blinks. He had tugged down his mask, revealing his face, as he ate. Iruka was transfixed by the bared expanse of flesh on Kakashi, the most he had ever seen. Kakashi's skin was as pale as Madam Shijimi's, but not without the healthy glow. His jaw was narrow, his features surprisingly delicate, his expression drawn. He had a few other scars besides the one over his left eye, but one particular scar stood out, an angry red gash stretching from his lips to his earlobe, as if a reminder of Sasuke's crime, Obito's crime, Madara's crime—all the same crime, a crime that stained the memory of the Uchiha clan. Of all their victims, only Kakashi had survived, if one called his existence, hidden away in a garbage-strewn existence, surviving. Iruka's heart ached, a lump lodged in his throat, and his hands trembled around his chopsticks.

Kakashi was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

After dinner was eaten, the cartons closed over the remains, Kakashi drew Iruka back to the bedroom. The ritual was familiar by now, almost comforting. Iruka waited for the clasp of leather around his wrists, but it never came. Kakashi's hands remained empty. Instead of removing Iruka's clothing, Kakashi sat, hands draped over his thighs. His naked face tilted up at Iruka, his mismatched eyes filled with something soft, something that glittered in the waning light. Iruka did not realize Kakashi had grabbed his hand and touched Iruka's fingertips to his cheek until Iruka saw his own fingers pressed to forbidden flesh. Kakashi's face felt oddly soft, despite the hardness of bone just beneath the skin. A tingle shot up Iruka's arm and ricocheted down his spine, awakening all his senses.

Kakashi smiled, just a little, his scars folding up against themselves as his cheeks crinkled. With his silver hair sliding across his forehead, Kakashi seemed as ethereal as a ghost. "Iruka-sensei, I—"

...

_End._


End file.
